One of these letters to the Duchess de Polignac, which history has
preserved, gives a faithful and touching picture of the sorrows and
grief of the queen. A translation of it runs thus:
"I cannot deny myself the pleasure of embracing you, my dear heart,
but it must be done quickly, for the opportunity is a passing one,
although a certain one. I can only write a word, which will be
forwarded to you with a large package. We are guarded like
criminals, and this restraint is truly dreadfully hard to bear!--
constantly too apprehensive for one another, not to be able to
approach the window without being loaded with insults; not to be
able to take the poor children out into the air without exposing the
dear innocents to reproaches, what a situation is ours, my dear
heart! And when you think that I suffer not for myself alone, but
have to tremble for the king as well, and for our friends who are
with us, you will see that the burden is well-nigh unbearable! But,
as I have told you before, you absent ones, you keep me up. Adieu,
dear heart, let us hope in God, who looks into our consciences, and
who knows whether we are not animated by the truest love for this
land. I embrace you!
"P. S.--The king has just come in and wants to add a word."
"I will only say, duchess, that you are not forgotten, that we
regret receiving so few letters from you, and that, whether near or
far away, you and yours are always loved.
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